Shards
by Harmony Bites
Summary: Feeling overshadowed and overwhelmed (yet again) by the successes of his friends, Ron requests leave from his job as an Auror and visits Charlie in Romania, where he runs into Pansy and discovers it's not just geese that lay golden eggs.


Written for the Ron/Pansy Fest. Original Prompt: 1) Feeling overshadowed and overwhelmed (yet again) by the successes of his friends, Ron requests leave from his job as an Auror and visits Charlie in Romania, where he runs into Pansy and discovers a latent talent for dragon rehabilitation (or something dragon related—think Robin McKinley's _Dragonhaven_ if you have read it). Non-epilogue compliant.

Yes, I know-more a vignette and a beginning than a full story-but not likely to ever be expanded-but this is a pairing and set-up I like and am sharing for what it's worth.

Disclaimer: (c) 2009 Rabble Rouser/Harmony_bites. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur nonprofit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by Paramount or any other lawful holder.

Thanks so much to **djinn_fic** for her beta and **lifeasanamazon** for the Britpick. You guys are awesome!

* * *

**Shards**

"Oi, Charlie." When Ron saw the look on Charlie's face at his greeting, his smile dimmed. "I suppose I should have floo'd I was coming first..."

Charlie had made a go-away face, a God-not-you face he saw all the time on all his other siblings really, but never Charlie. To Ginny he had been one of those yucky boys growing up, and now that she had grown up the only boy she was interested in was The-Boy-Who-Lived. To Bill, so much older, little Ron had been the annoying sprog underfoot. Percy was just the most Merlin-awful, annoyingly _serious_ old man on the face of the Earth-from seven years old on. The twins had each other and the only time they had been interested in him was when they wanted to use him in an experiment-because Percy wouldn't let them use Scabbers.

Oh, George wanted him around these days, all right. Fred's death had changed him from two-as-one to someone trying to grab pieces of others to stuff a hole that would never be filled. Two days into his leave, Ron had known if he didn't get away from George and Weasley Wheezes he'd go mad. No, he didn't want to plug that hole, didn't like the feeling in the twin's shop of being a perpetual kid in a toy store. So he'd used his Auror Porkey privileges to get to the farthest place he'd be welcome.

Well, where he thought he'd be welcome. And now Charlie... No, that was a go-away face, even a God-not-you, but the squeaky "Ron" had an edge of panic in it, his darting eyes an evasiveness Ron was all too familiar with as an Auror. Who was that woman bending down over the table...? Now, the way she filled those jeans... well, Ron could have understood if he had interrupted something, but even if his parents were in denial, Charlie just wasn't into girls that way... and...

"You." The woman spun around and poked Charlie in the chest. "You called your brother the auror on me?"

Ron clenched down hard on his wand. _That_ woman. "I wasn't aware you were a wanted woman, Parkinson."

Pansy's laugh had a ragged edge to it. "Wanted? Oh no." And her words a bitter edge.

"Interesting assumption then." He strode to the table, not missing the wary looks Charlie and Pansy gave each other. Just how had Charlie got involved with _her_ of all people? On top of the stone table was a small iron caldron. Peering in, he could see two dragon eggs taking up almost all the space within except for the glowing coals surrounding them. Not the usual, these eggs looked like solid gold and...

"One of them is cracking..."

Charlie had gone off to the kitchens in search of more raw meat to feed the newborn dragonette, leaving Ron with Pansy, sitting across each other by the fire in wing chairs. She might be wearing jeans, but the fuchsia blouse, now stained with dragonette slime and grease from cramming minced chicken and beef into the hatchling's maw, had the sheen of silk, and a fit and cut that screamed money. He had to hand it to Pansy, though, she didn't seem bothered. Not at that or the singed hole in the round collar from when the dragonette had burped fire. But then, with a flick of her wand, a _Reparo_ and a _Laveo_, she took care of the damage.

The dragonette slept on the hearth, its belly distended from gorging, its hide a gleaming gold, unlike any dragon in the standard Bestiary, and only a few from legend. Legends he had been reminded of recently in briefings, rumours about Lucius Malfoy and...

"The blood of the Golden Chinese is supposed to give the gift of speech with all animals," Ron said, peering intently into her face.

"The Golden Chinese is extinct."

"There's a fossilised egg that was reported stolen from Gringotts."

"Oh, but we all know it's impossible to steal anything from Gringotts. Any goblin can tell you that."

Something about the smirk she gave him made Ron suspect Pansy knew the full story behind how he, Harry and Hermione had stolen the Hufflepuff Cup from Gringotts and got past a dragon. That might have stopped his and Harry's career as Aurors cold. But even more important than Harry being the hero of the day, Ron suspected the goblins just didn't want it known how easy it was to break into their vaults. Well, if you had someone on the inside and weren't averse to using Unforgivables in a good cause.

But then, it was said that Pansy Parkinson had learned everything there was about tabloid journalism from her mentor, Rita Skeeter. He'd always figured Pansy for a snake or a drooling pug dog animagus, but maybe instead she was a fly on the wall...

"Besides, what would a fossilised egg get you?"

"A bloody good start with the right Potions Master." There were old tales that the egg shards of a Golden were one of the ingredients in the Elixir of Life, and that it had been Dumbledore himself who found a way to revive one of the clutch of old fossilised eggs found in the 1800s.

"Be still my heart, you actually paid attention in Potions. If only Professor Snape could know, it might make his heart beat again."

"Who said I learned it from the greasy git?"

Her smile was sour. "You can take the Ron out of adolescence, but apparently not the adolescent..."

"Why Parkinson, you actually care what I call him? A half-blood, blood traitor..."

"I do. Apparently more than one of those he saved. You were there, weren't you? Did you enjoy watching Snape be slaughtered so much that you still get such relish out of insulting him even now? How about Vince? You have a history of being about when people I care about die."

"I was there for Fred's death too."

After he blurted that out they both started then pointedly looked to the fire-and away from each other for a while. His face heated up with shame. "Pansy... I'm sorry. I think having you here... I reverted a little."

She shook her head, that shiny cap of black hair swinging about her and hiding her face. She flipped it back, and when she spoke her voice was a bit husky, sounding on the edge of tears. "It still hurts. Even now, and believe it or not, I don't want to see those days back again. We lost. Fine. I'm happy to quit while we're behind."

"Is that why you stole the eggs?"

Pansy laughed. "Oh, good one. What's next, Veritaserum?"

"Romania is not my jurisdiction, Pansy, but that is my brother out there, if you've brought him trouble, that is my business. Why would you even come to him?"

"A reporter never reveals her sources."

Ron frowned. Trying to work it out. Although it might not have been smart, one thing you could say about Pansy's call to seize Harry: She was loyal, even if an idiot about who she gave her loyalties to, _and_ she had guts. If her fellow Slytherins had just backed her up, they might be living in a very different world now. If their informants were right about Lucius Malfoy gathering old Death Eaters about him, about his collection of old grimoires and dark objects hidden away in all the niches they never had been able to find... then...

"If Draco has anything to do-"

"I'd say nothing and everything," Charlie said as he walked in to the cottage. Behind him walking on wooden peg legs was a cabinet that stopped right inside the door. Charlie put down a bucket of more meat for the dragonette-she'd have to be fed every half hour-and started rummaging through the cabinet, tossing various things into a knapsack until Ron could tell a lot more was going in than could possibly fit without magic, then laid it beside Pansy. "Ron knows I'm gay-"

"But he doesn't know about..."

"Draco. You and he... he and you... and... oh." Ron snapped his mouth closed, before a fly or beetle or a dragonette or two could fly in. "Oh." He remembered after the Battle of Hogwarts, Charlie had taken a leave of his own from the Dragon Reserve. Ron had sworn he'd seen Charlie and Draco walking close together at Diagon Alley that time, and another time years later having dinner at the Leakey. Hermione had pulled him away, insisting he leave it alone. Was he the only one who didn't know? "But he's marrying Astoria."

Pansy gave Charlie a rueful look. "And thus was born a beautiful friendship. Charlie and me, crying in our beer. But really, it's a great match. Lucius loves Astoria's pure blood, Narcissa loves her fertility, and I think Draco loves that Astoria loves his money. It makes things so much less complicated if you don't get feelings involved."

Charlie reached out and ruffled her hair. "Right, love, and we're so good at that."

"I've always been good at cleaning up Draco's messes."

"This isn't his, exactly."

"No, like most of his problems, he inherited it." She sighed. "It's almost dawn. Won't be long now before the Great White Peacock discovers he doesn't even have shards from the egg he was brooding on." Pansy reached down and gave the knapsack an experimental tug, then slung it over her shoulders.

"Just where are you going?" Ron asked.

"The Crystalline Cave right up in the Carpathian Mountains," Charlie said, "where I took you hiking a few years ago. I have a map. Some miles down there's a cavern where Goldens used to live. If we could get the hatchling and egg there, and nurse them until they're fledglings... I can't go all the way, Ron. I have to be where I'm supposed to be today, if Malfoy isn't to catch on to where Pansy went."

"Why is that even important? Just report the bastard."

"If you do," Pansy said, "everyone will know about the dragonette-and the egg shards, and you'll touch off a gold rush as destructive as any in the Americas trying to find the hatchlings-and searches for more of where they came from. Is that what you want? Maybe even push Malfoy and his cronies toward another war? Get Draco killed? Do you even trust your Ministry with this kind of treasure if they find it?"

"I'm supposed to trust _you_ with it?"

"Why are _you_ here, Ron?" Charlie asked.

Ron flushed. "I... I took a leave from the Aurors. Harry is on his second promotion. Hermione on her third and I... I don't want a career as George's sidekick. Or even Harry's."

"You love what you do. Do you even want promotion, get kicked up to a desk like Harry?"

"No." Ron shook his head slowly. "No. But I still have two months leave. And since I don't trust you, Parkinson, that means you get a sherpa."

"What? The great Hermione Granger won't object to you spending weeks alone with me?"

"Hermione is great without me." He grinned. "I'm great without her. Well, without her that way. She's also a great friend, so if you ever use a certain word around me that starts with "M..."

Pansy shrugged. "That's rather vulgar and passé. And so yesterday."

Charlie tucked the hatchling into a harness, and Pansy and Ron followed him out the door. Ron could swear Pansy was putting a real sashay into her walk. Ron grinned. Well, if he was going to spend some time following in yet another person's footsteps, at least he could enjoy this view...

**The End**


End file.
